


Wanting

by Skeppsbrott



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 08:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12229521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeppsbrott/pseuds/Skeppsbrott
Summary: This is less of a fic and more of a literary montage.





	Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> _I want black  
>  I want white  
> I want every colour_
> 
> \- Veronica Maggio, "Vi Mot Världen"

There’s something to be said about hunger. Not the hunger you feel in the morning, or after a workout session, but the hunger that cannot be sated by meat or grain. The hunger that, even then, makes your body ache with emptiness. 

You suppose that on one hand it’s really the first-worldiest of problems, but on the other hand this feeling is so deeply rooted in you, eating you up from the inside and making you jittery with adrenaline, that ignoring it would be a downright crime. You try and hold on to the feeling for when you’re sober and in your studio, not high on excitement and pre-party rum-and-coke. The hunger and anticipation one only ever feels on the subway to a party, surrounded by people dressed to the nines a saturday evening. There’s something to be said about  _ that _ .

Aranea stops mid laughter to grab onto the lapels of your jacket as the subway comes to a quick halt, quickly shoving herself off of you once she’s steady again, a red tint to her cheeks. Porrim wiggles her eyebrows and Aranea squeals a “as if!” in response. You don’t comment on the fact that you can still feel one of her hands’ tight grip on the leather of your jacket. She’s right at your fingertips, and you only need to be patient. Porrim laughs at something you didn’t pay attention to, and when Aranea push her glasses up her nose and her fingers brush over your abdomen, you feel like a racehorse with only seconds until the gunshot goes off. The sounds of the world muted like you’re underwater, blood pumping in your ears, every muscle in your body ready to explode. 

You want to swallow the night whole.

* * *

At this point you’ve learned to tell with an embarrassing accuracy when Cronus just wants a warm body to spend the night with and when he needs a proper rebound. Or you suppose you’re more than  _ just _ a warm body to him, or he wouldn’t come back to you over and over again. At least you hope so. Not that you’d admit it.

The desperation in Cronus’ grip on your shirt and hair tells you all you need to know, and you kiss him back with that same feverish heat he has and begs of you to return. You press the length of your body against his, pin him against the wall, enjoy the taste of liquor on his breath and the shameless whimper of need that rolls off of it as he feels you up.

Tonight turns out to have been a really bad night for him; no matter what you do, he always seems to be asking for more. It’s a very Cronus thing of him to do, and something you embrace wholeheartedly. 

The first few times you loved him for it, then you realized that  _ being loved for it _ was what he’d wanted, and not the “oh, anything,” he’d so eagerly told you. These days you’ve come full circle; once you started letting him taste things in his own pace and not just all at once, he soon started craving whatever you could give him. 

By the time you’re spent and drained, Cronus is still drunkenly kissing your fingers, saying he can take another round.

It’s the first time you back down before he does.

The best way to shut him up is to wrap your arms around him, pull him tight to your chest, and the duvet up to your waists. This time you don’t even think twice about it.

* * *

“Look, monogamy wasn’t even an option until way recently for most of us,” you overhear Bro from the kitchen as you enter the flat, and so you lower your guard. If he’s got company over, he’s not going to jump you. Hopefully. “You’ve a social stigma with lots of guys terrified of being outed, a lack of political and juridical recognition, not to mention shit like the AIDS crisis… it’s not really a fertile ground for long term commitments.”

On the floor next to the umbrella stand filled with the wooden swords, there’s a leather jacket piled. Looks like you picked a good night to stay out. In the kitchen someone hums, and clinks with the cutlery. You listen to your Bro’s voice, and realize you don’t think he’s ever let someone stay for breakfast as far as you can remember. Or if he has, you weren’t home, or he certainly never made them company. 

You’ve also never heard him speak about his life so openly. 

You take a minute extra to slowly and systematically untie your shoes; it’s highly unlikely he didn’t notice you coming in, so he’s probably just ignoring you. You’re not complaining, especially not if you get to hear more about him as a person, and not just as your guardian.

“Not to mention, casual hookups are fun. And up until the literal plague, they were mostly harmless, no risk for pregnancy or anything.”

You’re so curious it’s honestly embarrassing.

(Not to mention the twang of jealousy; he never told you  _ any _ of this.)

There’s a moment of silence, and you realize he’s waiting for you to acknowledge your presence. Of course. When you stand up and knock on the doorway to the kitchen he’s already looking at you from behind the shades. 

“Morning, kid.”

You nod. Bro points to the guy sitting in what’s usually your spot. He’s got a bad case of hair that’s clearly meant to be heavily styled but is currently fucked up beyond repair. He’s also  _ really fucking attractive.  _ You’ve made great efforts to not look too closely at the people your big bro brings home, lest you find out you have the same taste (not that you swing that way, but it’s a matter of principle). Wasted time, apparently.

“Cronus, Dave.” You nod cooly at Cronus, making a great effort not to look at whatever your bro has left all over his throat and down his V-neck and shoulders. He blinks for a moment, looking between you and Bro.

“Uh,” Cronus begins, but Bro’s shades catch the light at the corner of your eyes and sends a shiver down your spine and before he can say anything of substance you’ve greeted the two of them with a “cool,” and made your retreat.

Cronus doesn’t leave until  _ well _ past lunch, which sucks for you because you’re not about to have a staredown with Bro as you interrupt them to get something to eat. You try and share your concerns with your chums, but John doesn’t get that there’s zero humor to this situation, Rose just offers to strife you personally if Bro won’t do it, and Jade (bless her heart) is mostly excited that your bro “maybe found someone!” or whatever.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in helping me beta some stuff then please leave a comment! This work wasn't beta:d, which is fine because it's nothing serious, but I definitely need a beta for ALLC.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
